


Man's Best Friend

by Fanforthefics (StormDancer)



Series: Hockey Tumblr Oneshots [6]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Pining, Puppies, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-01 09:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13995384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormDancer/pseuds/Fanforthefics
Summary: Sid gets dumped, gets a dog, and falls in love. Despite his meddling friends, he insists these aren’t related.





	Man's Best Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Less fluff than usual, but for the prompt "puppies" for the SidGeno fluff fest. Reposted from tumblr, so not betaed. Don't know, don't own, entirely fictionalized versions with nothing to do with the actual people, etc. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The call comes in right on schedule. Sid probably could have timed it down to the minute, after he sent the picture to the groupchat. He rolls his eyes at the phone, as he checks the caller ID—Duper, which means they’re really worried. They still bring Duper out as the big guns, even after all this time. He guesses he should be happy they didn’t tap Mario in.

He looks down at the puppy happily chewing on her toy. “Be quiet, eh?” he suggests, and rubs at her ears. She barks cheerfully. He has to smile. “I’m about to get interrogated.”

She barks again. It’s nice, to have the noise in the house. Even after only a few hours, it’s nice.

The phone rings again, more insistent; Sid sighs and picks up. “Hey.”

“Bonjour, Sid.” It’s always nice to hear Duper’s voice. Sid’s gotten used to not playing with him or having him around, but he still misses him. “I hear you have a new addition to the family?”

No beating around the bush, at least.

“Yeah. Was it Flower?”

“Tanger,” Duper admits without pause. “He showed us both. Are you okay?”

It’s starting to get a little annoying, really. “Am I not allowed to get a dog without it meaning I’m falling apart?”

“No,” Duper says simply. “You’ve said for years that you didn’t have time for one. What changed?”

Sid sighs again, shrugs. Nemo nudges her head against his hand and barks again, more insistent. “I don’t know, I wanted one.”

“Sidney.”

“Fine. Chuck broke up with me.”

Duper’s breath is loud over the phone. “And so you got a dog? That’s more rash than you usually are.”

“I’d been thinking about it for a while.” Admittedly, he’d been thinking about it in terms of them getting a dog, rather than just him, but it’s not a lie. Duper sighs again. It makes Sid defensive. “This isn’t a rebound. I’m not going to give her back when I get over the breakup.”

“I know, I know,” Duper agrees, placating in that way he’d gotten good at, putting up with Sid’s idiosyncrasies. “Do you want to talk about the breakup?”

“No.”

Duper snorts. “Surprising, that.”

“You asked.”

“I did,” Duper agrees. He pauses, then adds. “You know you can talk to me if you want though, right? If you need someone on the outside. Or just if you want someone.”

It makes Sid let out another long breath. Nemo yips, drops her toy, and takes off for the hall, her nails scratching at the hardwood. His decorator is going to kill him, but what’s a multimillion dollar contract for if not fixing dog scratches? “I know. There’s just nothing to talk about.”

Duper hums, clearly unconvinced. “Do I get a picture of her, then? Lola wants it.”

“Well if Lola does,” Sid laughs, but he puts the phone on speaker as he sends the pictures he’d taken earlier, of Nemo curled up on his lap. She’s still small, all paws and big pointed ears, but the guy at the shelter said she’d grow.

“Oh, she’s cute,” Duper says a second later. “German Shepherd?”

“Yeah.”

“They take a lot of work, no?”

“I know. I’ll hire people for when I’m not here, and Austin and Alexa said they’d help out when they’re in town.”

“Of course you have a plan.” Duper’s voice is fond, but it still feels a little pointed. Maybe Sid’s just rocky, coming off of Chuck’s final parting shot—I need you here, he’d said, not ten steps ahead. Whatever. Sid’s good at what he does because he is ten steps ahead. He’ll be a good dog owner for that reason too.

“I told you I didn’t do this without thinking.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Duper agrees.

“Good. Now how are the kids?” Sidney demands, and that sets him off like Sid had known he would.

Once he hangs up, Sidney goes searching after Nemo. She’s in the kitchen, chasing a ball around the tile. Sid picks it up, tosses it for her, and she takes off after it. When she brings it back, Sid crouches down, rests his forehead against hers as she tries to lick at his face.

“We’ll be okay, huh, girl?” he murmurs. It’s impossible not to smile with her like this. “We’re fine on our own.”

///

Sid gets bombarded at practice the next day. “Pictures!” Phil demands, as soon as Sid’s stepped foot in the locker room.

“I sent you all a picture,” Sid points out, dropping his bag at his stall. And maybe checking his phone to see if Austin’s texted him with any problems. He hasn’t, but Sid still shoots him a check in text, just to make sure. She’d sounded so mad when Sid had left this morning, her barking taking on a plaintive quality, and for maybe the first time in his life Sid had seriously considered skipping practice. 

 _She’s fine!_ Austin shoots back, and Sid lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“You sent us a picture,” Matt replies. He’s half in his pads already, but he waddles over. “When are we setting up playdates?”

“Maybe when your dogs won’t accidentally eat mine?” Sid retorts, but he dutifully opens his phone to all the pictures of Nemo that he’d taken this morning, when she’d been eating.

“They wouldn’t eat her, they’re great with puppies. Oh, look!” Matt coos, and a rather disturbing amount of large hockey players let out a high pitched noise at the video of her playing tug of war. “She’s gorgeous.”

“Who?” Geno demands, coming in last, of course. He sees the crowd around Sid, wanders over, elbowing some of the younger guys out of the way. “What happening?”

“Sid’s puppy,” Olli tells him, and hands over the phone. Geno takes it, his eyebrows raised.

“Sid get puppy? What if he get into peanut butter?”

Sid raises his eyebrows back. “I’ve been training you all for ten years, I think I’ve gotten practice.”

It gets a laugh out of all of them, Geno most of all. “Yes, Sid best dad dog,” he agrees, reaching out to ruffle Sid’s hair. Sid smacks him away, and Geno makes a face at him but hands the phone back to Muzz. He wanders away soon after, chatting with Hags and Phil, as Tanger closes in on Sid.

“You ratted me out,” Sid accuses, finally starting to get around to changing.

Tanger shows zero remorse. “You got a dog. I had to.”

“Kris…” Sid trails off. Tanger’s watching him with that skeptical, narrow-eyed gaze that Sid is intimately familiar with. “I am fine.”

“You’re always fine,” Tanger agrees. He angles his body so everyone else in the room is cut off. Over Sid’s shoulder, he can see the guys talking in groups. Olli, Sheary, and Jake are giggling about something on someone’s phone in the corner. They look so young. Sid wasn’t young even when he was that young, when it was him and Geno and Flower and Tanger and Jordie huddled in the corner. “Chuck was an asshole.”

“You liked him,” Sid observes, mainly to be a shit.

“Before I knew he was a dick who didn’t deserve you.” Tanger’s jaw sets. “I did give him the shovel talk, you know. I can go follow through.”

Sid laughs without meaning to, and puts his hand on Tanger’s shoulder. “If you get arrested, I’m not bailing you out.”

Tanger’s grin flashes, all heart-melting mischief. “Yeah you would.”

“Why are you bailing Tanger out of jail?” Rusty asks, edging his way into the conversation.

“Because he’s always our first call,” Tanger says, turning away from Sid to grin at Rusty. “Right? We’ve taught you all that? You go to jail, call Sid. He gives an autograph and it goes away.”

“Tanger.” Sid rolls his eyes, then looks at the locker room. “But you do know to call me, right?”

“No, we call Geno,” Olli says. “He won’t lecture us.”

Sid turns to glare at Geno. “He won’t?”

Geno looks up from his conversation. “Won’t what?”

“Lecture us if you had to bail us out,” Zach explains.

“Oh.” Geno puts on an exaggerated thinking face. “Depend on why in jail, yes? If for stupid reason, lecture. If funny…” he waggles his hand back and forth. Sid clear his throat, loudly. Geno laughs again. “No, of course lecture. Bad to be arrested. I give worst lecture.” His tone leaves much to be desired in the way of discipline, but Sid doesn’t really mind. They’ve always worked well like this on the ice and in the locker room, in tandem. “Like I give worst fine if not on ice on time! Hurry up.”

He heads towards the rink, and takes the time to slap Sid’s ass. “You too, captain. Not get pass because cute puppy.”

“Fuck you,” Sid retorts, but Geno’s already gone. Sid rolls his eyes again, and keeps getting dressed.

He has a quick meeting with Sully before he can go home, so everyone’s basically cleared out of the locker room and no one chirps him when he checks his phone again for update. Austin hasn’t sent anything, which Sid assumes is good. Still, he gets changed quickly, and heads home maybe faster than he otherwise would. He can make lunch at home.

He’s greeted at the door by loud yips, and nearly trips as Nemo runs at his feet.

“Hey! Hey, girl,” he says, as he shuts the door quickly before she gets out and tries to juggle his bags and the dog jumping at him. “No, down, no jumping.”

Austin comes running up after her. “Hey Sid.”

“Hey. How was everything?” Sid gives up on getting his shoes off first, and kneels down to greet Nemo.

“Good, she’s great. We had a run and played a lot of fetch.” Sid looks up, and up. Austin’s so tall now. He remembers when Austin was barely up to his chest.

“No accidents?”

“No, but we were outside the whole day.” Sid stands up, goes for his wallet, and Austin laughs. “Come on, don’t be stupid.”

“You dogsat.”

“Yeah, I got an excuse to get out of the house and hang out with a puppy, my life is hard.” Austin throws an arm around Sid’s shoulders. “Think of it as payback for all the babysitting.”

“I think your parents paid me back for that pretty well in room and board.”

“Sid,” Austin whines, sounding very much like the ten year old Sid had first known him as. “Pay me back by letting me go out with the guys when you do next?”

Sid snorts. “Your dad would actually kill me.”

“No he wouldn’t, you make him too much money,” Austin teases back. Nemo barks, unwilling to be ignored. “And he listens to you. I’m legal now, I can go!”

“I’ll ask,” Sid allows. It would be cool, for Austin to come around—be grew up with some of these guys, sort of. It’s like how now he and Taylor can go out for a drink—weird but good.

“Thanks!” Austin throws his other arm around Sid to hug him, then lets go. “Okay, I’ve got to go meet some of the guys. I’ll see you? Dinner before I go?”

“Yeah,” Sid allows, and waves him off. “But—yeah, the door has to open quick, she’ll make a break—”

“Okay, got her?”

Sid leans down to grab her collar. “Got her.”

“Go!” Austin laughs, and pulls the door open. Then he pauses. “Oh, hey G!”

“G?” Sid asks, mostly distracted. Nemo’s straining to get out, barking furiously, and her squirming is making it surprisingly difficult to hold on.

“Get in, go!” Austin urges, and then the door slams and Sid lets go of Nemo’s collar.

Nemo charges at the door, and hits long, lean legs.

“Oh!” Geno makes the sound Sid expected—the one that he always uses around small animals and babies. “Sid! She beautiful.”

“Yeah, you’d have known that if you looked at the pictures earlier instead of chirping me.”

“Chirping you too easy,” Geno dismisses. He shoves his hands out, pushing a takeout bag into Sid’s chest. “Take. I need to greet pretty lady. What her name?”

Sid stands up and takes the bag, watches as Geno immediately drops to his knees. “Nemo.”

“Nemo?” Geno asks, wrinkling his nose. “Like baby fish?”

“Sure.” It’s less chirp-worthy than the real reason, so Sid’ll let him have it.

She bites at Geno’s hand anyway, so Geno’s distracted and starts cooing to her in Russian. Sid watches for a moment—Geno’s big hands on Nemo, the gentle way he handles her, his massive grin that takes up his whole face. Then he shakes his head, and goes to the kitchen to see what Geno had gotten them for lunch.

What he’d gotten, it seems, was something from his favorite Russian restaurant. Sid hasn’t seen this since the worst of his concussion.

“What are you doing here?” he calls.

Geno wanders in, carrying Nemo. Sid carefully doesn’t look. It’s always easier, when he has a boyfriend.

“Want to meet Nemo!”

Sid gestures at the food, and then looks significantly at the house. Geno doesn’t just come over, usually. They’re friends, and at the rink Geno’s his partner in basically every way, but they aren’t _friends_ , not like this. Their relationship generally revolves around hockey. Not because they don’t like each other, because Sid thinks Geno’s a dick but he’s one of the best guys Sid knows and he’s confident that affection is returned, but because they just aren’t. Sid has his friends, Geno has his. Geno doesn’t really just drop by just for lunch.

“Fine. Want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Did Duper just text everyone about Chuck?” Sid complains.

“Yes. Group text. Make sure we all know.”

Sid groans. Nemo barks in concern, and scrabbles at Geno’s hands. “Yes, good, you be cute so Sid not mad,” Geno coos at the puppy, and rubs between her ears. Then he adds, to Sid. “Duper just wants to be sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes, he say.” Geno sets Nemo down, leans against the counter. He gives Sid a full body look that makes Sid want to squirm. Instead, he starts pulling down plates. “He not here, though.”

“Why are you?”

“Sid.” Geno’s voice has changed, and it makes Sid set down the plates and look over his shoulder at Geno. Geno’s looking at him so earnestly, like he always has; that look that gets right to the core of Sid. “You get puppy.”

“Yeah, so what?”

Geno presses his lips together. They’re hockey players, none of them are great at feelings, but Sid knows that look—when Geno’s emotions are getting too big for his body. “Want to make sure…” he trails off, clearly making sure he can put the sentence together in English. “I want to be there for you, if you need it. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or anything.” He just looks at Sid, and like they’re on the ice, Sid knows what he means.

They might not be best friends, for all they’re partners, but—but Flower’s in Vegas and Duper’s in Montreal and Kuni’s in Tampa and Tanger’s got his family and all the other guys on the team, for all Sid loves them, are younger; newer. They haven’t been there through everything. Sid’s still their captain, has to be that for them. There aren’t that many people in Pittsburgh whose shoulders Sid could cry on, anymore.

“I’m fine,” Sid retorts, but its less firm. Geno’s just watching him, with those sleepy eyes that see too much and Nemo running around his legs and his long, lean body. “Really. Chuck was…it sucks, but…” he shrugs. But he’d seen it coming sounds too cold, too robotic, even if it’s sort of true.

“He sucks.”

“You liked him,” Sid says, for the second time that day.

“No,” Geno denies, even though he’d definitely given Sid the thumbs up when Sid had taken him to a team party once and they’d gotten into a long argument about the Steelers. “Worst. Always hate him.”

Sid snorts. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying.” Sid gives him his most skeptical look, and Geno holds up his hands. “I’m not! Always know he not good enough for you.”

“Okay,” Sid allows, rolling his eyes again. Nemo’s bored of being ignored, so he leans down to grab one of her toys and throws it for her. “Sure. I really am fine, though. Nemo, she’s not…” he shakes his head, but if there’s anyone he can tell this to, it’s Geno. If you can’t say shit to your work spouse, who can you say it to? “It’s just been quiet, around here. And I wanted something.”

Geno watches him a second longer, then nods. “Okay.”

Sid glares. It’s not like Geno to give in that easily. “Okay?”

“Okay. Make sense. Chuck sucks, make sense you not crying over him; Nemo cutest, make sense you want her.”

“And you’ll tell whatever group chat you guys have about me?”

“Not just about you,” Geno sniffs, which is patently untrue because there is another group chat that Sid is a part of that has everything else. “But yes, I tell. Say stop bug you and Nemo very cute.”

“And that they should stop worrying about me?”

Geno laughs, and wanders over to reach around Sid to grab a plate. “Not stupid, Sid. Not going to try that.”

Sid huffs out a breath. “I’m captain. Aren’t I supposed to be the one worrying about everyone?”

“You worry enough.” Geno’s close now, close enough for him to nudge Sid gently aside. Sid goes mainly because he doesn’t know how not to. “Let someone worry about you now.”

Sid doesn’t really have a defense against that. He stands aside, and lets Geno herd him to the counter so they can eat.

Once Geno’s gone, after lunch and some more pictures of Nemo and a final, meaningful look at Sid, Sid goes out to the backyard with Nemo, so she can run. He watches as she darts after the rope he’s throwing her, barking wildly.

Eventually, he pulls out his phone.

 _Did you tell Geno to come over?_ He texts Flower. No one else would have.

It’s late enough that despite the time difference, Flower must be up; the text comes back soon enough. _No?_

Oh. So Geno had wanted to come over.

It’s not a surprise. It shouldn’t be a surprise. It’s not like they don’t do that, when one of them need it—the concussion, Sochi, any of Sid’s various injuries. But those are hockey things, usually. This didn’t feel like a hockey thing.

 _Did he come over?_ comes Flower’s next text.

_He was here all afternoon. Wanted to meet Nemo._

_Really_

Sid glares at his phone, like he would have at Flower, if he were here. _Don’t_

_I’m not_

Then, because it’s Flower, and no one knows him quite like Flower. _You okay?_ He asks, and Sid knows that he means—everything. He means him being in Vegas and Chuck breaking up with him and how things have changed; and he means Geno and how things never really have, between them.

Nemo comes running up to him, but her paws are too big for her body and she trips, rolls, and comes up still running. Sid laughs.

 _Yeah_.

///

Nemo wakes Sid up in the middle of the night, yelping pitifully. Sid knows that if she’s ever going to be crate trained he needs to let her sit, but it only takes five minutes of her sad, mournful barking for him to get up and go downstairs. She’s straining at the wires of the crate, and how is Sid supposed to stand up to that?

He lets her out—stops by the yard to let her out quickly, just in case—then goes back upstairs. He has to help her onto the bed, but she’s so pleased when she’s up there, sprawling next to him.

“Just this once,” he tells her, in the dark quiet of the room. “We won’t tell anyone.”

She snuffles, and he takes that as agreement when he goes back to sleep.

///

Sid expects things to go back to normal, after the first shock of Nemo’s presence. That’s how the team usually treats his weird idiosyncrasies; a moment of surprise and chirping, then tacit acceptance that that’s just how he is.

But after a shitty, irritating OT loss a day later, Geno follows him home again. Sid was mainly planning to sulk, because the years haven’t made him a better loser even if he’s learned to keep it off the cameras and away from the guys. Now he can wait until he gets home, even if he knows it’s annoying if someone else is there too. By the end, Chuck was complaining about that too, sometimes making sure not to stay over nights when they’d lost. Sid didn’t blame him, really. He knows how he can be.

But with Geno there, he can’t sulk. Instead, they eat dinner, devouring whatever leftovers Sid has in the fridge standing up in the kitchen because neither of them can be bothered to set out plates, and Sid spends half his time eating and half his time scolding Geno for giving in to Nemo’s begging.

“It’s bad for her!”

“Is not, is like sweets. Good treat.” Geno smirks at Sid, too knowing. “You think people shouldn’t have sweets, even if it’s bad for them?”

He’s caught Sid, and he knows it. He knows Sid’s little indulgences well, after years of teasing him about deserts in restaurants on the road. “You’re not the one who’ll have to deal with her, if she gets sick,” Sid protests.

Geno laughs. It feels like it fills the house, from top to bottom. “She get sick, you call me, I deal with her. Promise.”

“Sure,” Sid agrees, though they both know he wouldn’t. Geno grins again, smug like he always is when he gets his way. It makes Sid need to push, because it’s too easy for him to give in to Geno. “But stop feeding her human food.”

“Fine.” Geno sighs, like Sid’s the one being unreasonable here. “Where are your treats, then? She best girl, need spoiling.”

“She really doesn’t,” Sid argues, but he’s already nodding towards the jar where her treats are. “At least see if you can get her to sit first.”

“Yes, Sid.” Geno smiles at him like that’s what he was going for all along, which maybe he was.

Of course, he starts getting her to sit in Russian. If Sid ends up with a dog who only responds to Russian commands, he’s going to—do something drastic. Probably involving a lot of complaining to Taylor.

Still, it’s cute, watching Geno try to train Nemo. She tries, is certainly enthusiastic, but she doesn’t seem to understand how to sit still for long, and Geno doesn’t hold up well against her entreating eyes.

When Geno finally leaves, late enough that Sid makes him promise to text when he gets home, Sid hasn’t thought about the loss in hours.

“This can’t be an issue again,” he tells Nemo, when they’re settled in for bed and she’s in what’s too quickly becoming her normal place next to him. “I thought this was done.”

She makes a noise that he chooses to interpret as telling him he’s an idiot. “Yeah,” He agrees. He is. He knows it. He’s not eighteen and in love with anyone who can play amazing hockey—who he plays amazing hockey _with_ —anymore.

He had been, when he was a kid. Then, Geno had been so much—so loud and sure of himself and confident, even with the language barrier, and he’d been a lot of things Sid had wished he could be. They’d had the perfect mix of easy understanding on the ice and casual friendship off that had made him the perfect target for all of Sid’s teenaged dreams—friendly enough that Sid could dream of how Geno would understand him, how he wouldn’t get annoyed at all the things Sid knew was annoying about himself and how much they’d make each other laugh, but not so friendly that it was weird, like it might have been with Flower or Tanger.

But even then, Sid had been the planner Chuck accused him of now, and he’d known better than to let it become anything more than hopeless daydreams. Oh, he’d maybe been obvious—Flower had never pretended he didn’t know, and Sid assumed that especially once he came out, all the old guard had figured it out pretty quickly—but Geno had been twenty and charming and Russian and so clearly in love with being famous and rich, and there was only one way that could end.

It hadn’t been an issue then, and Sid had dated other people, quietly, and Geno had dated other people, not quietly, and Sid had set that teenaged crush aside in favor of playing amazing hockey and leading a team together. 

“And that’s what it is,” he tells Nemo. He’s wiser now. He’s not that kid. He’s not going to do something stupid, just because Geno’s showing him more attention now. He can still see where that leads, and it’s nowhere good.

///

They fly to DC a week later, the first in a short roadtrip. Sid sits alone on the plane, in his usual seat—he’s stopped getting bugged about that, finally—and goes over video. If he closes his eyes, it could be any time in the last ten years; he can pretend Flower’s just gotten up, and the sounds of the card game in the back are the same, the light noise of teasing and laughter constant even if some of the voices have changed. He can still hear Geno, Tanger back there. The snores of the guys who drop off immediately, no matter how long the flight is. The young guys chatting. Some things are constant.

“You asleep?”

Sid opens his eyes again. Geno’s leaning over him, one hand on the overhead compartment and the other on the back of the seat in front of Sid. It’s how Geno usually stands—he’s got a lot of limbs and always needs to have them planted somewhere, and maybe because of that he’s always been tactile. It’s also the kind of move that, in another place, on another man, Sid would take as interest; that way of leaning into his space. But it’s Geno.

“If I was, that would have woken me up.”

Geno shrugs, unconcerned. “You don’t sleep on short plane ride like this.”

“I could. Nemo’s been acting up.”

“Because you make her sleep in crate. Is so mean, I tell you!”

Nemo has not slept in her crate since the first night Sid gave in, but he is not admitting that to anyone, and definitely not to Geno, who seems to have some weird idea that Sid isn’t a pushover. “She has to learn,” he says instead. 

“She already learn house training, not need crate.” He must notice Sid’s look, because he makes a questioning sound.

“She’s mostly learned house training,” Sid explains. It wasn’t the best note to leave on, maybe.

“Oh.” Geno makes a ‘what can you do face.’ “She great puppy anyway. Who’s taking care of her?

“I got a dogsitter,” Sid admits, and waits for Geno’s horror. It’s not like he has anyone else, though; the Lemieux kids are all back at college, and Sid wasn’t going to ask one of the guys’ wives to help. He already feels guilty enough about it. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten a dog, or not now. Not if he has to leave her with a dogsitter—even if Nathalie promised she’d stop by sometimes. He should have waited until the offseason, maybe.

But Geno doesn’t react like Sid thought. Instead, he just sways forward a little, cutting them off from the rest of the plane. “Checking in every ten minutes?” He asks.

“No,” Sid mutters. He’s made it half an hour, at least.

“Fifteen?” Geno goes on. “Or wrong way. Every five? Hope you pay well.”

“Fuck off,” Sid tells him, and Geno laughs.

“Is okay, is cute.” Geno leans even closer, and Sid looks back down at his ipad, even though it’s gone to sleep. This is what got him into trouble, all those years ago. But when Geno speaks, its softer, all the teasing gone. “Is good you have someone.”

Sid keeps looking at the dark screen. “I don’t think a dog counts.”

“Is good,” Geno repeats, oddly forceful. When Sid looks up, Geno’s looking down at him, and that odd intensity is in his eyes, too. It makes Sid want to look away, it makes him never want to look away. It makes it dangerous.

“Hey.” Tanger edges his way into their space, pushing Geno aside. Geno turns a scowl on him. “Is this what you ditched the card game for? Video review?”

“Go away, is leadership meeting.” Geno shoves him back. Tanger sways, but doesn’t go. Instead, he looks at Sid, raises his eyebrows. Sid shrugs. Tanger looks unconvinced.

“Fine, I’ll go. I see where I’m not wanted.” Tanger shoves Geno again, but takes a step away. “New game’s starting, G. If you want in.”

“Yes, I come.” Geno glances at Sid again. “Nemo be fine, Sid. Don’t worry.”

“I wasn’t,” Sid tells him, but he’s already on the way back, pushing Tanger into the empty row behind Sid for good measure. Tanger catches himself, and gives Sid another meaningful glance.

“I don’t know,” Sid says, which encompasses just about everything he’s feeling right now.

Tanger continues to look unconvinced. His gaze flicks to the empty seat next to Sid. It hasn’t been easy for him to adjust either, Sid knows, even if they all knew it was coming. Even if Tanger’s a lot quieter about it. But he also knows what that look means.

“Don’t,” Sid warns. “There’s nothing to say.”

“Of course not.” Tanger taps the brim of Sid’s hat, companionable. “You want in on the game?”

This time it’s Sid’s turn to look skeptical. That’s always been Tanger and Geno’s thing, for years. He’s never been able to get into cards. He gets too invested, apparently, and he can’t bluff for shit.

Tanger shrugs. “Yeah, well. Don’t like you all alone up here.”

“I’m not alone.” Sid raises his ipad, then gestures to the seats around him, which are filled by guys, though they’re mainly talking to each other or asleep. “Go back to your game.”

“Aye aye, captain.” Tanger salutes, and heads back. Sid thumps his head back against his headrest. He wishes everyone would stop worrying about him. He wishes things would stop changing. He wishes—he doesn’t know what he wishes.

///

They play a hard game in DC but pull out ahead, and in the locker room Sid lets himself be talked into going out. Geno grins at him when the kids get excited about that, winks—they both know that Sid was always going to go. It’s important, on nights like this, when they’re still making sure they have their cohesion on a team.

And Sid likes it, anyway. Who is on the team might come and go, but the team never does—his team. That’s as constant as he’s going to get.

So he’s happy to sit in a booth and laugh and tease the kids as they try to flirt and fail, and to chat about the game with Tanger and Phil and the other guys who don’t want to hook up.

He gets a round—he’s shit at it, because apparently he’s too polite and doesn’t know how to get a bartenders attention, but he also makes the most money at the table so he likes to buy the most rounds, captain’s duties—and when he comes back, they’re all smirking at him.

“What?” he demands. His chair’s been lost since he got up, so he has to retrieve one from another table. By the time he gets back, there’s more smirking and all the beers have been distributed.

“You’ve got a fan,” Horny says, utterly failing at sounding innocent. He nods over to the bar; a guy is watching him over his friend’s shoulder, unabashed. He’s cute, tall and muscled; maybe a little younger than Sid but not by much. He’s definitely not looking at Sid like a fan.

“He’s not a fan,” Sid says. He sits down, quickly.

“You could go talk to him,” Phil points out. “No one here knows who you are.”

“Yeah, you’re single!” Schultzy is clearly more than a little drunk; not only has he already been dropped off with the old guys, he’s also listing into Geno’s side. “Go get some!” He raises his beer glass, but it’s empty.

“Someone get him some water.”

“He fine.” Geno pats Schultzy on the head, much like he pets Nemo. “Young, bounce back quick.”

“Uh-huh.” Sid remembers being that kid. He’d never bounced back that quickly. But maybe that was just him; Geno had generally been okay, though they’d all blamed that on being Russian. “I—”

“Back to the point,” Tanger interjects. “Sid. Hot guy. Rebound. Let’s go.”

“I’m not going to rebound,” Sid retorts. “I don’t want to rebound.”

“Not ready yet?” Hags asks, sympathetic. They’re all watching him sympathetically, all these married men with their lives already started—with people back home waiting for them.

Geno makes a noise, from the other end of the table. Sid doesn’t look at him. He looks at Tanger, instead; tries to pretend he’s just saying it to him. It’s easier than everyone else. “I’m fine. I’m just not looking for a hook up right now.”

Tanger’s dark eyes are all too knowing. “If you say so.”

“I could—”

“No,” Sid cuts Phil off. “No set ups, come on, we’ve been through this.”

“Fine.” Phil huffs.

“None of your friends good enough for Sid anyway,” Geno breaks in. “Take a lot, to put up with him.”

“Oh, thanks,” Sid throws at Geno, but it’s broken the tension and Sid’s grateful for that. “I—”

Something’s buzzing—his phone. He holds up a hand. “One sec.”

It’s the dogsitter, which makes everything in him freeze. He shoves away from the table, to the patio where it’s quieter. It’s getting to be cold enough that most people are inside, and he finds a corner that’s even more deserted, leans against the wall to answer. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mr. Crosby?” The dogsitter—Jamie, a college student Mario had recommended—has the sort of worried, high-pitched tone that comes with nerves. “Sorry to call so late, I just—”

“What’s wrong?” Sid interrupts. If she’s calling him this late, something’s wrong. He could call Mario, though he’d hate that. He could ask Tanger where his kids are, if Catherine could run out, but that would maybe be even worse. He could—

“Nothing. Or, it’s fine now. Nemo just got into a whole bar of chocolate, I think?” Sid freezes. Chocolate. Fuck, he should have been better, should have— “She’s fine. She was puking, but I called the vet’s number you gave me, and she said she’d be okay. I just wanted to update you—you said you wanted to know immediately.”

Sid lets out a long breath. He hates being this far away. What if something was wrong? “Yeah, I did. Thank you. It sounds like you handled everything.”

“Thanks.” He can hear the smile in her voice. “I have exactly what the vet said here—I took notes—and I can give you her direct line too, if you’d rather talk to her in person.” Sid knew he liked Jamie. “Nemo’s doing great, though. She’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah.” Sid presses his lips together. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Geno hovering by the door; he catches his eye mostly accidentally. Geno pauses, then starts making his way over. “Can you text it to me? I’ll call in the morning. I trust you, for tonight.” Or he has to.

“Sounds good. Sorry again for bothering you.”

“It’s not a bother,” Sid replies, both instinctively and because it’s true. He thinks, waits, then—“And can you send me a picture of Nemo, too? Just so I feel better?”

He knows she’s laughing at him now, but it’s nice laughter. “Yeah, of course. I’ll text it all to you right away. Have a good night, Mr. Crosby.”

“Good night,” Sid replies, and hangs up.

“Okay?” Geno asks immediately. He’s right next to Sid, those few centimeters closer than most people’s personal space. “Have—” he furrows his brow exaggeratedly. “Captain face on.”

Sid lets out a long breath. “Nemo got into some chocolate.” Geno tenses immediately. “She’s okay, but it sounds like it could have been bad.”

“But is not?”

“It wasn’t.” Sid leans back against the wall. His shoulder is almost brushing Geno’s arm. “She’s fine. The dogsitter was just updating me.”

Geno mutters something thankful in Russian. “So you okay?”

Sid nods. He’s fine. Everything is okay. They won, he’s out with the team. He’s fine.

“Sid.” Geno knocks their shoulders together. “That not an okay face.”

“I am okay.” He is, mostly. And the parts of him that aren’t—those aren’t the hockey parts. Those are the parts of him that he sometimes wishes weren’t there, that he really was the robot people used to tease him for being. The farthest parts of him from hockey.

“No.” Geno crosses his arms, and he has his most mulish look on. “Not okay. Don’t have to talk to me, but talk to someone, Sid.” He narrows his eyes. “I call Flower.”

“Geno.”

“I call _Mario_.” He threatens. Sid’s pretty sure it’s an empty threat; Geno’s hero worship of Mario remains deep. But Geno at his most stubborn isn’t to be trifled with. And anyway, it’s—it’s nice, that he cares enough to make Sid talk. Even though he knows it isn’t hockey.

“I just…If something was wrong, I was trying to figure out what I’d do, and I realized—I didn’t have anyone.” Sid shrugs. He looks up at the sky—cloudless, but it’s still too bright to see any stars. “I mean, I’d call the guys, but you’re all here. Outside the team—it’s not that I want Chuck back, or anything. But he’d have been someone to call.”

“Sid.” Geno’s arm is around his shoulder suddenly, tugging him into his side. “Don’t be stupid. You call Mario, call Catherine, call Jen. Call other friend. You have lots.”

“That I’d wake up at midnight to go check on my dog?”

“That would want to go at midnight to do favor for you.” Geno grabs his other shoulder, turns him. His eyes have the sort of intensity they usually only get on the ice. They’re very close, Sid can’t help but notice, and Geno’s lips are a little red from whatever he’d been drinking. “It’s what friends are for. You know this.”

Geno’s hands somehow feel even larger than usual on his shoulders, and they’re close enough that it’d only take a step—a pull—and then they could be kissing. Which isn’t what Sid should be thinking about now, but he’s a little tipsy and maudlin.

“I know,” Sid admits. It’ll get Geno to let him go, at least. “It was just—I was worried.”

Geno keeps him in place a second longer, with the intense gaze, then he does let him go. “I know. But all okay. Nemo go to vet?”

“Yeah. I left her number with the dogsitter, and an emergency number. Jamie—the dogsitter—she should be texting me what the vet said now.”

Geno grins. “See? You make play, and it works.” He taps at Sid’s cap. “Best captain. Now come inside, is cold.”

Geno’s smiling, that bright self-satisfied grin, and he’d cared enough to make sure Sid talked to him, and they were so close, in that instant.

“I’ll be in in a second,” Sid says. Geno gives him a suspicious look.

“If you still here in five minutes, I send search party.”

“One minute, promise. Just want to read what Jamie sent.”

“One minute,” Geno agrees, and goes inside.

Sid keeps his phone out. Fuck.

 _I think I have a problem_ , he texts Flower. He can’t talk to Tanger about this. Tanger’s still here; he won’t make it weird between him and Geno. Flower and Geno are still friends, sure, but they’re texting friends. And Flower’s always been his, if there was a division.

Flower doesn’t text back for a few hours, when they’re back at the hotel and Sid’s trying to sleep. _Problem????_

_That rookie shit with Geno? I think it’s coming back._

_Yeah Tanger said he thought there was something happening_. The traitor. _What are you going to do?_

_Nothing? Wait until it goes away again?_

_You are the least romantic person I know._

_Nothing’s changed._ Sid sighs at his phone.

_Except neither of you are kids anymore. And apparently Geno’s been spending a lot more time with you than he ever has before._

_That’s because he likes my dog._

_Is that what we’re calling your ass these days?_

That doesn’t deserve a response, Sid decides, and puts his phone aside to go to bed.

///

They play two more games on the road, then come home for another. Nemo greets Sid with wild barks and a flattering enthusiasm, and Sid spends the morning before the game playing with her instead of one of the half dozen other things he should have been doing. She loves him unconditionally, at least. He knows that.

He knows it’s stupid, but he snaps a picture of her in his lap, sends it to Geno. Geno probably missed her too, he decides. He gets back a row of smiley faces and emojis that Sid stares at too long.

He’s about to leave for the rink when the call comes in, from a number he hasn’t seen in a month. But he can’t not answer it. They didn’t technically end on bad terms. 

“Hello.”

“Hey, Sid.” Chuck’s voice is the same smooth baritone that Sid had loved, back then. “How are you?”

Sid looks out at his kitchen—Nemo is chewing concentratedly on a rope in the corner, her tail wagging. “I’m good,” he decides. “About to head out for a game. Why are you calling?”

Chuck snorts—the sort of snort Sidney knows too well, the one he got when he thought Sid was missing a social cue. “Right to the point, okay. So, I know this is awkward, but—I wanted to check in first. I don’t know if you remember, but you gave me tickets to the game today as a birthday present for my dad, and, well.” He pauses, and Sid knows he’s rubbing at his chin, like he’d always done when stressed. “I wanted to make sure it was still okay if I used them.”

Sid hadn’t remembered, but what sort of asshole does Chuck think he is? “Of course. Tell your dad I hope he has a good time.”

“Thank you. I know it’s weird, but he was really excited.”

“They were a gift. I’m not going to take them back.”

“I know you wouldn’t.” Chuck sounds fond, now. Like he had when they were dating. “I didn’t want to surprise you, though. I know how much you love that.”

Sid snorts. “Yeah, probably wouldn’t have been great.”

“I didn’t think so.” Another pause, then. “Good luck today, Sid. We’ll be cheering for you.”

What’s Sid supposed to say to that? “Thanks,” he says again, and hangs up. He’s got a game to play.

///

Of course, he’d forgotten that he’d gotten Chuck good seats, too, so during warm up at least three teammates have circled around him and demanded what “that asshole” is doing here. To each, Sid explains; they accept that with varying degrees of ease.

“Think I can get a puck in his face through the glass?” Tanger mutters, and he sounds serious enough that Sid has to warn,

“Don’t. We’re fine. He called me to check.”

“Still, dick. What’s he trying to do, get us to lose?”

“Seriously, I don’t care. I didn’t think I would have to check with you to make sure you were okay with it.”

“I’m fine. We just have to win to rub it in his face. Can you manage a hat trick tonight, do you think?” Sid laughs and knocks their shoulders together.

“I think I’m always trying for a hat trick,” he replies.

“Sid!” Geno calls, seconds before a puck comes rocketing towards him. Sid stops it, then swipes it away as Geno comes after it. “Going to talk about asshole ex or come play hockey?” he demands, his eyes glinting.

Sid meets his eyes, and he sees everything he needs to there—hockey’s what matters. Hockey and winning, not exes, not anything else.

“We good,” Geno announces, and tries to steal the puck back. Sid keeps it away, and Geno swears cheerfully at him before skating away. Tanger raises an eyebrow at that.

“Nope,” Sid tells him. “Come on. We’ve got a game to play.”

///

They do win, though Sid doesn’t get a hat trick. He puts up a respectable few points, though, and honestly doesn’t think of Chuck at all until he gets back to the locker room and there’s a text waiting for him. _Great game!_ It says, then _you looked good. I really am glad you’re doing well._

Sid rolls his eyes a little—no one could ever say Chuck wasn’t a nice guy, but he could do without the condescension. Did anyone think he was a functional adult at thirty?

Then he puts his phone aside, because the media is descending and he has to deal with that.

Geno follows him home again, not even bothering to pretend he’s going anywhere else. It’s late and Sid doesn’t know how he’s not exhausted, but he’s not going to say no to the company.

Nemo comes running for the door when they come in, and Sid only just manages to slam the door shut behind Geno before she gets out. Geno apparently doesn’t notice, because he’s too busy kneeling down to let her lick all over his face.

Sid shakes his head and tosses his bag to the side. He’ll never teach her manners like this.

“I’m going to walk her,” He says, reaching around Geno for the leash. “You can find something to eat, if you want.”

“No, I come.” Geno straightens. “Cool down more.” At Sid’s expression, he raises his hand. “It’s a joke, Sid! I cool down plenty, don’t worry.”

“If you needed to stay later—”

“I would have stayed.” Geno plucks the leash out of Sid’s hands. “Come, we walk.”

“Oh, now it’s we,” Sid complains, but if Geno wants to be the villain who chases Nemo around so he can clip on the leash, Sid isn’t going to stop him.

The night is crisp and cool, the sort of fall that’s getting into winter, and after a long game Sid thinks it’s nice, though Geno is shivering dramatically.

“You can go back inside,” Sid points out. Geno doesn’t respond to that, which means that he was just complaining to be an asshole, which Sid had basically expected.

They chat about the game a little as they walk, and Nemo scampers around them, still interested in everything. Sid’s always down for a debrief of a game, and when they win and Geno isn’t angry about it, there’s no one better to do it with.

They’re a few blocks away from the house when Geno cuts into Sid’s dissection of Horny’s penalty with, “You really okay with Chuck being there today?”

Sid groans. “Yes. You too, really? It’s fine.”

Geno nods, but he presses his lips together too before talking. “You together a long time. Not always easy, to get over.” He pauses, then adds. “Is okay not to be okay, Sid. Don’t have to pretend, with me.”

“I’m not pretending.” Nemo pulls, and he trots a few steps forward before shortening the leash to make sure she can’t get into the street. It’s late enough that it’s pretty empty, but no use taking risks. “I knew it was coming for a while. I mean, he thought I wasn’t spontaneous enough. That wasn’t going to change.”

“You, not spontaneous?”

“Right?” Sid snorts, and Geno’s smiling too, a little. “I don’t know what he thought he was getting into.”

“Think once you almost bought new shoes without planning first,” Geno says, tapping his chin obnoxiously. “Very spontaneous.”

“I never claimed to be,” Sid objects, but he’s laughing anyway. “But with stuff like that—we weren’t working. No one’s fault, really. I’m not easy.”

Geno’s face clouds over. “Sid—”

Sid has to smile. Geno’s loyalty knows no bounds. “That’s not a me having bad self-esteem thing, G. It’s just a fact. We both know it.”

He can see Geno trying to argue, but there’s no way to. “Fine. But worth it, to be with you.”

Sid’s heart beats a few thumps faster. “I guess.”

“Is true.”

They walk some more in silence. Nemo’s clearly happy to be outside; she runs back behind them, sniffs a tree, and barks at the squirrel that must be up it.

“You seem sad, though,” Geno says at last. “If it isn’t Chuck…And I know Flower leaving hard, but you seemed okay…”

Sid takes a breath. Thinks of Geno demanding he talk about more than just hockey, about Geno following him home because he understood that he didn’t have more people here. Maybe there can be more than hockey between them.

“Know why I named her Nemo?” he asks, nodding at Nemo, who’s pissing on a shrub and looking quite pleased to be claiming it.

“Because you like Disney?”

Sid smiles at that, but shakes his head. “No. There’s this story, about a dog in the Vietnam war. He and his handler were patrolling, and the enemy attacked. Both him and his handler got shot, and Nemo distracted the Vietcong long enough so he could call in reinforcements. Then he lay over his handler until help came.” Sid watches as Nemo bounces along. He can’t quite look at Geno. “I don’t know. I liked the idea of that sort of loyalty. Of someone who wouldn’t leave.”

“Sid.” Geno’s voice sounds a little hoarse. Sid still can’t bring himself to look at him. “ _Sid_ ,” Geno says again, more demanding, and this time Sid can’t help it. He stops walking, so he can look at Geno. Geno’s lips are parted, and he’s looking at Sid like he’s seeing him for the first time. “You know you always have us, yes? Even if we go to different teams. Won’t lose us.”

“I know. Flower texts me enough, trust me.” Sid shakes his head again, trying to figure out how to phrase it. “But it’s not—everyone has someone, you know? And I know Chuck wasn’t going to be that person for me. But I just…it’d be nice, I think. To have someone.” He shrugs again. It’s quiet on the nighttime street, and Nemo is happily exploring a neighbor’s garden, and it gives him the probably stupid idea to say, “I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t get by on just a hopeless crush on you anymore.”

Geno blinks. “Crush?”

Sid rolls his eyes. “Come on. I know some of it got lost in translation, but you had to know.”

Geno makes a face, but it’s the same face he made earlier, where he wanted to argue but couldn’t. “Wondered,” he admits. “But—you like that with the whole team. Flower, Tanger…you love all of them.”

“Sure.” Sid replies, easy. “But it was different with you.”

Geno nods, slowly, clearly thinking. There’s something lighting behind his eyes, the sort of look that normally either ends in a penalty or a goal. He takes a step forward, so their toes are almost touching. “Was different?” he asks.

Sid saves the chirp about Geno actually remembering how to conjugate verbs for later. Right now, he’s looking up at Geno and he had so many dreams about this, then and now. “G,” he warns. “I’m fine. You don’t have to do this out of—pity, or something. I know you aren’t—”

“I wasn’t,” Geno interrupts. “No. Is true. Not have adorable rookie crush.” The face Sid makes at being called adorable is instinctive, and makes Geno chuckle. “But now…” His hand comes out, settles just above Sidney’s elbow. “It’s always different with us, Sid.”

“Geno,” Sid gets out. Geno’s hand on his arm feels like a brand. He’s only just holding onto Nemo’s leash. This never occurred to him. He doesn’t know the play for this. Doesn’t know—this could go wrong so many ways, and his mind is spinning them out, over and over, how it could crash and burn and how small of pieces Sidney’s heart could end up in. “If you don’t—”

Geno makes a fed up sort of noise, and then his hand is sliding up to cup Sid’s neck, and Sid’s supposed to have good reflexes but he can’t react before Geno’s kissing him, gentle but firm, like a declaration. Sid can feel his breath catch in his throat, but before he can do anything else, Geno’s pulled back.

His thumb runs over Sid’s cheekbone. “There. See, different.”

Sid still feels like he can’t breathe. This is too much, all at once; too much he’s always wanted and never thought he could have. Too much for him to lose.

“This can’t be simple,” he warns, trusting Geno to understand all that. “I can’t—I can’t do casual. Not anymore, and not with you.”

“Who says I want casual?” Geno retorts, half-laughing, half-defensive. “I not want as long as you, maybe, but still want to try.”

He looks stubborn again, and intent, and he’s _Geno_ , who’s been a constant for Sid since he was a teenager. Who is probably the most important work relationship Sid has, or will ever have. Who is so, so important to Sid, probably more important than anything else. Sid opens his mouth—

And stumbles, as Nemo takes off unexpectedly. Geno bursts out laughing as Sid scrambles to rein her in and keep himself upright.

“Nemo!” he snaps, but she ignores him, and he has to tug her back in. When she’s finally under control, he finally gets a chance to look back at Geno.

He’s lit up with laughter, all long legs and broad shoulders and that easy laugh that Sid’s loved since he was mostly a kid still. Sid’s never been able to say no to him, not really.

“Yeah,” he says, loud enough to cut off Geno’s laughter. “Let’s try.”

///

Sid wakes up with Nemo stretched out on one side of him, and Geno on the other. It’s the warmest he’s felt in a while, maybe too warm.

It’s late, late enough that Sid’s not getting back to sleep, but they have the day off today, so Geno won’t wake up until the last possible minute. Sid doesn’t want to move. Instead, he reaches over, grabs his phone.

 _You were right_ , he sends.

He doesn’t know what time it is in Vegas, but for some reason, Flower texts back immediately. _As always. What am I right about?_

_My problem got resolved._

_And????_

_We’re trying_ , Sid types, takes a breath, and sends.

 _!!!!! I’m so happy for you, Sid_. 

_Thanks. Could go wrong, but I hope it’ll be good._

Flower’s still typing, but his phone buzzes anyway. A notification from Tanger, in their group chat.

 _I knew it!_ Then, _Good luck dealing with him after a bad game. Or maybe he’ll need good luck, with you._

 _We’re very happy for you_. Duper, now. Sid rolls his eyes.

_Did you even wait for me to finish typing before you told everyone?_

_Of course not._

“Sid,” Geno moans. “What happening?”

Sid smiles down at him, all messy hair and face flushed from sleep. “Our friends are happy for us.”

“Good,” Geno mumbles. Sid’s phone buzzes again; Geno flails in its general direction until he gets a hold of it, then pushes it in the general direction of the bedside table. “Come back. Sleep, now.”

Sid’ll have to get up soon to walk Nemo, who’s already stirring; they’ll definitely need to talk to the team, and Jen for sure. Probably Mario. He has meetings later this afternoon, and phone calls to make. They have another game tomorrow, and the vast expanse of the season stretching out in front of them.

But for now, Sid settles back on the pillow. Geno makes an approving sound, and rolls over so he’s got an arm sprawled over Sid’s chest. On Sid’s other side, Nemo’s making waking up sounds. Sid’s phone is still buzzing with his friends’ messages.

He closes his eyes, and doesn’t want to be anywhere but there.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Want to talk about it? Comment or come chat on [ tumblr!](http://fanforthefics.tumblr.com/)
> 
> A note: the story about the historical Nemo is true, apparently! Read about it [here](http://dogtime.com/dog-health/general/10959-five-war-dogs-for-memorial-day#zHiYu06RQGcK6xiU.99/)


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